A Gerudo, a Twili and a Spirit
by Redawilo
Summary: Just because they are villains doesn't mean they can't have some fun with each other. A mostly-crack fic about what Ganondorf, Ghirahim, and Zant do in their spare time.
1. Chapter 1

**I've been meaning to write a fic for Team Villain for a while now, but as I have not written fanfiction for _years_ I had a hard time figuring out how I would do so. Even still, this came out much longer than I had anticipated, much differently than I had anticipated, and I will probably end up writing even more of it later.**

* * *

><p>Looks can be deceiving, as can first impressions. When Ghirahim first laid eyes on his new partner, everything seemed like it would be just fine. The creature was tall, and his bizarre alien features were certainly intimidating, as was his booming voice that was only rivaled by Ganondorf's own. They had no chance to even get each other's names before they were sent into battle. Their first mission together would be clearing the Gerudo Desert of monsters who would not owe their allegiance to the demon king. As Ghirahim watched the creature charge straight for a group of their foes and bring them down with only a few swipes of his scimitars, the sword spirit couldn't help but feel like his master truly <em>had<em> picked the right man to fight beside him.

And then the creature received a blow from a bokoblin's club.

And his true nature came to the front.

"OWWIEE! HELP ME!" came the ear-bleeding shriek from halfway across the desert.

Ghirahim visibly flinched at the sound, as did every creature around him. He turned to see if he could locate the source of such a horrendous cry, but only saw Ganondorf grit his teeth, break off from the lizalfos he was engaged in combat with, and dash across the dune in the direction the shout had emanated from. Left confused and without explanation, the spirit returned to the task he had been given.

But his peace did not last, as even after the assistance of his master, Ghirahim continued to hear shrieks, cries, moans, and even giggles, all of which arose in tones that could shatter glass. About halfway through their mission, the spirit finally learned just what had been making such a cacophony. The creature Ganondorf had summoned along with Ghirahim had been carving his way through enemies, marking every attack, both his and his enemies, with a wild noise. Ghirahim watched, speechless, as the creature summoned a large stone-like hand from the sky, and proceeded to beat his own fists into the ground to make the hand repeatedly smack and flatten bokoblins against the sand. With each strike of the hand, the creature let out a sharp giggle. Even after leaning his whole body from one side to the other in order to direct the hand into two magic walls and the creature had taken up his swords again, he was hardly any more graceful with dispatching the remaining monsters. His strikes were uncalculated, untrained, random, and wasted far more energy than was necessary. Ghirahim began to wonder if the creature even knew the meaning of the word "tired", but got his answer after only a few minutes of watching him out of the corner of his eye. After a series of long, not-at-all thought out strikes, the creature drooped and panted for a few seconds, ignoring his enemies' attacks as he caught his breath.

Just what was Ganondorf thinking?!

After the long battle, Ghirahim learned that the creature was a Twili by the name of Zant. He had once been a puppet of Ganondorf's and through the demon king's power had usurped the throne of the Twilight Realm. Ghirahim remembered hearing something about him from Volga and Wizzro, but hadn't felt the need to remember every detail as he despised spending time with the both of them, as well as Cia. It was explained to him that while Zant's methods were certainly unorthodox, and his cries were hardly standable, he was a valuable asset to their conquering of Hyrule, and that Ghirahim was to tolerate him.

And tolerate Zant Ghirahim certainly tried to. For the most part, it wasn't a hard task. Zant kept to himself and his own little corner of the camp. During most of the day he would stay hidden in his tent to avoid direct sunlight, and at night he would come out to eat, stretch his limbs, and whatever else he needed to do. He didn't talk much, but the spirit was thankful that when he did, it was in that same deep rumble he had first spoken in. Ghirahim also found that when Zant spoke, he would first stop and think for a few seconds before uttering anything. At first Ghirahim went to his master in order to learn anything about the Twili, but after the tenth or twentieth question, Ganondorf had grown tired of answering and instead instructed the spirit to go and ask Zant instead.

One evening, just before the sun fully slipped behind the horizon, the spirit's curiosity piqued, and he decided that it would be best to do as Ganondorf had said, as the demon king had holed himself up in his own private quarters. Ghirahim made his way through the camp, twisting and turning this way and that to avoid the careless bokoblins that cluttered his path. He approached the Twili's small section and was mildly surprised to find it empty save for Zant. It seemed the spirit wasn't the only one who wished to avoid the strange creature.

"What could possibly be in this single, dismal tent that could keep any sane man occupied for hours on end?" Ghirahim asked.

From his seat on the ground, the Twili jumped in surprise at being spoken to and turned his large orange eyes up at Ghirahim quizzically. His lips parted half a centimeter and the spirit could see the gears turning his head.

"I'm thinking." Zant replied. "And I'm watching. Watching your allies and learning about them is important, yes?"

"For three days, without stopping? I've spent a thousand years in solitude, working only towards a singular goal. I am more than aware at how droll one's own thoughts become after a time."

What could pass for a smile imparted itself onto Zant's features. "Then I am lucky that you came to talk to me."

Ghirahim was taken aback by such a remark. Thankfully he was spared from trying to think of something to say to that by the sound of the monsters announcing that the evening feast had begun. Zant moaned softly as he stared passed the spirit and got to his feet. No matter how many times Ghirahim watched the way Zant more floated up from a sitting position than he stood, he felt he would never get used to it. As he stepped passed Ghirahim, Zant turned his little smile down at him again for a moment.

"The large beasts that the creatures roast are delicious. What are they called again?"

"Bulbos?" Ghirahim replied, raising an eyebrow.

Zant nodded once. "Yes, those. Bul…bulbos. Try them sometime, if you can."

And thus began the process that Zant would later call the "Twili-Spirit bonding period". When they were not out on the field, and their master wished to be left alone, Ghirahim would inevitably wander over to Zant's tent and join him in conversation. At first it was hardly more exchanging a few words before the evening meal, but the time they spent together steadily grew into conversing with one another for hours until the Twili would become too tired to speak Hylian coherently.

That was one of the first things Ghirahim learned. While Zant's command of their language was astounding, it was not his first, and there were many times it showed. Zant explained that when Ganondorf had imbued him with his powers, he had also imparted onto him the Hylian that Zant now spoke. Because it had not been a natural learning, improving his vocabulary was sometimes difficult at best. This became a problem whenever Ghirahim would tell stories about his era, as much of the spirit's flowery language was lost on the Twili. Nevertheless, Zant proved to be a good listener, and would sit quietly and watch the spirit's dramatic movements with interest as he took in every word that was said, even if he couldn't understand half of it.

Ghirahim told Zant all about how he wished to revive his master and creator, Demise, and how he was positive that Ganondorf was somehow his reincarnation. Ghirahim also explained that though took on the (beautiful, stunning, perfect, and fabulous) form of a demon, he was the spirit of a sword that Demise had wielded a very long time ago. Zant told tales about the Twilight realm, and how he had once tried to spread the Twilight to the world they are in now. Ghirahim was surprised to hear that the hero of Zant's era had taken the form of a wolf at some point, and could not imagine how he must have looked like.

What perhaps was the most startling to Ghirahim was the revelation of Zant's relative age. He didn't know how Twili grew and developed, but by giving Zant several reference points of Hylian ages, Zant was able to conclude that he would be somewhere between a fifteen to eighteen year old. The spirit had taken him to be older, but he was perhaps just a little younger than the hero himself.

One morning, Ghirahim found Ganondorf hastily gathering supplies together. At first he thought the demon king was planning for them to move out, but when questioned, all he said was that he had something he wished to do, and that he was going to do it alone.

"I will be back tomorrow evening. Until then, you and Zant are to ensure that they" he gestured to the large camp of sleeping monsters, "are kept in check. I trust you are able to do this?"

With little more than a nod, the large Gerudo turned on his heel and began his trek across the dunes. Left with nothing else to do all day, Ghirahim sought out the Twili's company yet again. Zant was surprised to find the spirit waiting for him in his tent when he awoke, and let out a little moan when he was told of Ganondorf's departure. While he didn't say it aloud, Zant was overjoyed at the prospect of spending even more time with Ghirahim.

Before the Twili had eaten, Ghirahim sat with him in his tent as the ex-usurper king went about his morning routine. After breakfast, Zant dusted off the large, garish helmet that he wore in battle, and even polished it a bit with his over-long sleeves. He drew little doodles in the sand with a stick, and Ghirahim soon became able to decipher that what he was drawing was the layout of a castle. Zant used it to explain how the Twili castle had looked to Ghirahim, as the spirit had shown a curiosity about it before. Ghirahim in turn drew out a rough sketch of how the world looked in his era, and both marveled at how different it was to how the world looked now.

As noon drew closer, the two found themselves at a lack of conversation. It was then that Zant brought out his swords and began to polish and sharpen them to stave off boredom. Ghirahim watched with great interest as the Twili expertly drew the whetstone across each side of the blades multiple times. He brought them close to his face to inspect them better, lightly touching the blade with a fingertip before resuming his task. He gave a single moan of satisfaction once they were sharp enough for his liking. Ghirahim noted somewhere in the back of his mind that he did not find Zant's littler moans grating, but still had to wonder how anyone with a speaking voice like the Twili's could produce such a sound, or any of the ones he heard all too frequently on the battlefield. It was only a vague thought, though, as he was once more enraptured with watching Zant wipe down his blades with a soft silken cloth. Ghirahim felt a shiver run down his spine, which did not go unnoticed by Zant.

"Is something wrong?" he inquired innocently.

"No." he lied. "There is nothing wrong with me." Ghirahim's eyes focused in on Zant's hands for a moment before they widened in disgust. "However it appears there is something wrong with you."

Zant let out a short squawk and tucked his hands back into his sleeves. He hurriedly put his scimitars away and began to fidget with the tassels on the end of his sleeves. Ghirahim was not going to let him get away with it, though, and reached out to take Zant's hands in his own. Zant squirmed and avoided looking at Ghirahim as best he could, and the spirit noted what was probably a blush on his cheeks. Zant prayed silently that Ghirahim would not make a big deal about his fingers, as even among Twili it was unusual for the middle two fingers to be shorter than the outer two. This was not what had caught Ghirahim's attention, however, as the spirit had no other Twili to compare Zant to and as such thought it was common.

"Your nails are hideous!" the spirit declared. "You tend to your weapons in a manner that could arouse any sword spirit, and yet you do not even bother to keep your nails clean?!"

The Twili let out another confused squawk and stared at Ghirahim, completely baffled that his _fingernails_ were what had caught his attention. He also made note to ask what "arouse" meant later. With a sigh and a snap of his fingers, Ghirahim summoned a metal nail file and began to pick the dirt and grains of sand out from under the Twili's nails. Zant fidgeted a lot at first, but stopped after the second or third, and after one hand had been finished, decided he actually kind of enjoyed the weird attention he was receiving. Once all nails had been cleaned as best they could be in their situation, Ghirahim began filing them. Zant's nails were jagged, and tougher than a Hylian's, so they were difficult to shape the way Ghirahim had originally intended. In the end he settled on shaping them more like claws. When the spirit declared that Zant's nails were now passable, the Twili held them out in front of him and let out a soft wail of delight.

"I will strike you a deal, Zant." Ghirahim began, getting the Twili to turn those large orange eyes on him again. "I will continue to keep your nails, and your fingers too, immaculate, if you will continue to allow me to watch you tend to your swords."

Zant tilted his head to one side quizzically, but as he did not receive any explanation, was left to decide that he liked the way his nails looked and that he enjoyed the attention Ghirahim had given him. And clearly Ghirahim must have liked something about the way Zant tended to his weapons. Another smile painted itself onto his features and he gave an enthusiastic, singular nod.

It was then that a loud ruckus within the camp began, and Ghirahim and Zant had to step out from the shady comfort of Zant's tent in order to settle the fight that had broken out among the bokoblins over a large pot of boiling water.

* * *

><p><strong>SPOILERS: I plan for this to get very crack-y later on, (and it is going to incorporate a lot of my own headcanons) as this is mostly exposition. Also, this is an<em> OT3<em> fic, not a GhiraZant fic. Ganon just doesn't do much this time around because Ghirahim and Zant are the two who really don't know each other and again, this is exposition.**

**I'll be updating this as often as I feel like, so don't expect any sort of schedule. I'm also only going to be writing this until I get burned out, so it will go on as long as it does. There will also be NO SMUT, but there may be "off screen" sexy times. If you came here for smut, you will be disappointed.**


	2. Chapter 2

**I am suddenly realizing how dumb a title that is, but I don't really care enough to change it, lol.**

**Anyway, I finally made myself sit down and write more of this! I do apologize if it isn't as good as the last, as I was lot more tired than I thought I was…and I don't want to bother re-writing it. Also this time around I have most definitely begun incorporating some of my own headcanons, so I hope no one minds them too much.**

* * *

><p>Bokoblins are a difficult race to quell once they become enraged with each other. Short of killing them, the only way to settle down a rioting crowd of them is to render each and every one of them unconscious. Ghirahim and Zant were already aware of this defect of Ganondorf's lesser minions, but actually putting this knowledge to use was easier said than done. It took the two of them almost an hour to bring every last one of them down without seriously harming them. The darknuts, stalchildren and lizalfos watched from the sidelines, afraid that if they so much as raised a hand or claw to help, they too would be struck down.<p>

Ghirahim wiped his hands together dramatically as the final bokoblin fell over unconscious. As he let out a breath and began to relax again, he realized he hadn't heard any of Zant's usual battle cries in several minutes. A quick look around was all that was needed to find Zant quickly taking shelter inside his tent again. Ghirahim turned his attention to the other creatures under Ganondorf's rule.

"Pick up this mess." He instructed them, and they set to work as he joined the Twili. "Exhausted already?" Ghirahim asked his partner. "I have seen you fight for days on end with little rest."

Zant shook his head. "I'm not tired. I'm not excited for battle." He replied. "Cutting down the enemy is fun! Knocking the breath out of them is not. Besides…" his eyes drifted behind the spirit and towards the sky. "It is too bright." He sat down on the cool, shaded sand. "I miss the Twilight."

Ghirahim let out a huff. "With any luck, we will not be needed for much longer. Once our master has the Triforce, our presence will not be necessary. You will be able to return to your realm, and I to my time."

The Twili let out a squeak and stared up at Ghirahim with wide eyes. His lips parted momentarily before he frowned. "But Master is my god! He was defeated in my era. That wolf drove his blade through his heart, killing him!" He spoke rapidly, his voice rising in pitch, but thankfully not reaching the shrillness of his cries. "To see my god alive, here, it is like a dream come true! For my god to want my help, I would do anything! I do not want to go back to the Twilight if it means I am no longer needed by him!" There was a certain desperation in Zant's expression, and Ghirahim felt a twinge of guilt for being the one who had brought that out.

The spirit sat down across from Zant and leveled his gaze with the young creature. "You are not alone in that sentiment." He admitted. "I have said before that our master reminds me of my real master, Demise. In my era, Demise is sealed away within a sacred ground. Very slowly he has been gaining back his strength, but he cannot break free without the spirit maiden, the goddess Hylia's incarnation, being sacrificed. I have spent the past thousand years searching for her, but have yet to find her. So why is it that Ganondorf reminds me of Demise? Why does it feel as though the two are one-in-the-same? Ganondorf is not Demise, no matter how I look at it. I can only believe that Ganondorf is a reincarnation of Demise." He fell silent for a moment, and his eyes narrowed sorrowfully. "But for that to be the case, Demise, my creator, my true master, _my_ god, too would have to have been slain. For me such events have yet to take place, and yet the result is as clear as day when I gaze upon our master. I know that I must return to my era and finish the task I set out to do so long ago, but at the same time I desire to remain here with what remains of my beloved Demise and to be useful to him. I do not wish to witness the death of Demise, that much I am certain of."

Without warning, Ghirahim felt a long pair of arms encircle his waist. Zant had leaned forward and embraced him, presumably in an attempt to comfort him. The Twili's head was resting gently on his lap, and the spirit could not see his face, but felt a tear drop onto his leg and soak into the fabric of his clothes. Hesitantly he placed a hand on the creature's head, closed his eyes, and let out another huff. Dwelling on such thoughts simply would not do, that was a lesson he knew all too well. He shifted to cause Zant to look up at him, and Ghirahim took that opportunity to free himself from the Twili and get to his feet. He motioned with a finger for Zant to follow suit, which he did.

"It is well beyond your meal time. You are a living creature. If you do not eat, you will lose your strength."

As if on cue, Zant's stomach let out a soft rumble. The monsters in the camp had returned to preparing food, but as mid-afternoon was approaching, Ghirahim insisted that Zant not be made to wait. The Twili put his helmet back on to block out as much of the sun's rays as possible and followed the spirit into the desert to locate some of the fruits that Ganondorf had once mentioned were edible, if not a little too much on the sweet side. It was enough to feed a single hungry Twili for a few hours, though.

Upon their return, the bokoblins were beginning to awaken and resume their usual routines. Zant and Ghirahim were able to pass the rest of the day and night without hassle. Their conversations, however, were very brief and lackluster. Neither could quite bring himself to think of anything worth speaking about, not after what happened with their last discussion. And so it happened that Zant fell asleep early that night, before he lost his ability to speak Hylian.

When morning broke, the Twili was expecting to find his tent empty. After all, why would Ghirahim stick around when things had not gone so well the day before? To his delight, however, the spirit was occupying the same back corner he had been when Zant had laid down. The spirit's eyes were closed, and he didn't respond to the cheerful moan Zant gave upon seeing him. Curious, Zant crawled closer to him and peered into his face. Was Ghirahim asleep? Zant had thought he didn't need to. He had never seen the spirit sleep before, and he had certainly never seen the spirit express any form of weariness save for after a long day spent on the battlefield. As he slowly inched closer still, Ghirahim's eyes cracked open, causing the Twili to shriek and fumble backwards away from him.

"It is generally considered impolite to watch someone while they sleep." The spirit muttered, blinking off what remained of his tiredness.

"I thought you didn't sleep!" Zant cried. "I was curious. Besides, you have watched me sleep before."

Ghirahim shook his head and ran a hand through his hair. "I have not. I have merely sat in your presence and waited for you to awaken." Zant bared his sharp fangs in what might have been a snarl, but Ghirahim barely noticed as a strange scent wafted towards him on a light breeze from the tent's opening where Zant sat in a heap. "When was the last time you bathed?"

The Twili tilted his head to one side, his frustration gone as he thought about it. "Before Master summoned us." He replied.

Ghirahim wrinkled his nose at the information. "That was over a week ago!" he shouted, causing Zant to flinch. He rose to his feet and brushed the sand off of himself. "Stand! We are going to the oasis. I will not fight beside a man who is so unclean!"

When Zant only let out another cry, the spirit grabbed him by the back of his robes and dragged him through the camp and out into the desert. The whole way, Zant cried out, thrashed, and whined about the sunlight. Ghirahim ignored all of it until they reached the nearest spring. He threw Zant out across the ground and placed both hands on his hips.

"Strip down and get in the water!" he instructed. "It is still early, so the sun isn't so bad yet. You should be able to handle it for as long as it takes for you to rinse that stench from your body." When Zant sat up but hesitated, Ghirahim raised an eyebrow at him.

"I can bathe myself." Zant whispered, avoiding eye contact with the spirit.

"I'm sure you can. Now get to it. If you do not clean yourself to my standards, I will not let you back into camp." Ghirahim replied.

Once again Zant turned that snarl upon Ghirahim. "Then why are you still here?"

"To observe."

The Twili let out a high-pitched growl. "I will not remove my clothing while you are watching!"

"Then we are going to do this the hard way."

Zant let out a yelp just as the spirit picked him up and hurled him into the water, clothing and all. Zant shrieked, flailed, and splashed about as he got himself situated in the cool, the waist-deep pond. He was panting by the time he was standing upright, and once again he growled at Ghirahim.

"I am a _king_." He hissed. "You will not treat me like this!"

Ghirahim lazily flipped his hair. "You are neither of my masters, so I will treat you how I see fit. If you would just be a good boy and clean yourself, there would be no problem. I can stand here all day waiting for you, but I do not think your body will be able to take the sunlight for very long when it is magnified by the water. So what will you do?"

Slowly the message began to sink in. Zant didn't like it, but it looked like Ghirahim would not back down from this, and he was right about the sun. Leveling curses at the spirit in his native tongue, the Twili began to disrobe himself, tossing the wet clothing onto the sand at Ghirahim's feet. Ghirahim laid them out in a more dignified manner so that they would dry better while Zant bathed, which gave the Twili a chance to begin rinsing himself thoroughly without other looking. He turned his back on Ghirahim whilst doing so, and didn't notice when the spirit had finished his task and did indeed look.

Ghirahim found himself fascinated by the Twili's appearance. He had seen Midna in her imp form, but had never seen what a proper Twili looked like. The most he had seen were Zant's face, his hands, and a tiny fringe of hair peeking out from his hood. Zant's skin was black and white, like Midna's, but not quite in the same pattern. Faint blue markings glowed across his shoulders, arms, and legs. His hair was a dark red-brown, trimmed quite short, and it grew all the way down his neck, ending just above his back. Like many of the creatures from Ghirahim's realm, Zant's ears were long and pointed, and two small metallic earrings adorned each one. Ghirahim decided that while the Twili wasn't particularly handsome, there was a strange other-worldly attractiveness to him.

Zant began to turn around, and Ghirahim was quick to look away and observe the plants that grew relatively thick around the water. The Twili left the pond and pulled his robes back on. The way the damp fabric clung to his moist skin was less than pleasant, but he decided it was better than remaining naked in the spirit's presence.

"I am finished." He stated, and Ghirahim faced him again, and was surprised to find that Zant had opted to leave his hood off. "Am I clean enough for your standards?" the Twili grumbled.

"I cannot smell you any longer, so it will do." Ghirahim replied.

The two returned to the camp in silence. None of the other creatures questioned what had happened, or why Zant looked the way he did. Both were thankful for it, but for rather different reasons.

As the sun sank low into the sky, a familiar figure came into sight across the desert. The monsters of the camp ran about excitedly as they prepared for the return of their master. While Ghirahim and Zant had more or less kept things in order, the creatures were still afraid that the state of the camp would displease Ganondorf, and they were quick to make every as neat as possible. As the Gerudo reached the camp, a darknut stepped forward to greet and assist him, taking the reins from his master's hands. Ganondorf's eyes swept over the area briefly, and he opened his mouth to question where his two followers were when he spotted them.

Ghirahim was approaching as quickly as possible, an almost panic-stricken expression on his face. Sure enough, when he was standing before Ganondorf, he quickly knelt down and began apologizing for his tardiness in greeting him. The Gerudo let it slide, as the spirit's mistake was the least of what was wrong with the situation. For the entire time Ghirahim had been within Ganondorf's sight, Zant had had his arms about the spirit's shoulders and had yet to let go. Zant's eyes were closed, and he had his head resting against Ghirahim's neck.

"What is he doing?" Ganondorf asked the spirit.

"I have no idea." Ghirahim responded, glancing at the Twili. "What _are_ you doing? You have been clinging to me for an hour!"

Zant hummed happily and nuzzled Ghirahim. "Cuddling!" he replied, his voice a bit more shrill than the spirit would have liked. "It is what you are supposed to do with those you like, yes?"

Both Ganondorf and Ghirahim stared at him in silent confusion, and Zant seemed to realize that his explanation had not satisfied their question. He opened his eyes to explain further, but all of his thoughts were cut short as he noticed the creature standing behind Ganondorf and beside the darknut. He released Ghirahim and stood up straight as his eyes grew wide and a high-pitched moan escaped from his throat. He stepped passed his master and walked straight up to the creature, staring it in the eyes.

"Master, what is _this_? I have seen one like it before, the wolf used to ride one. What _is_ it?!" he asked.

Ghirahim's mouth fell open in disbelief at Zant's question and Ganondorf frowned.

"A horse. I decided that if I am going to be conquering this land, I would need one."

Zant could no longer contain himself and let out a whoop of excitement. The horse reared at the sound, yanking the reins from the darknut's grasp. Before it could flee, Zant threw his arms around its neck and nuzzled it. The horse immediately stopped its panicking, seemingly just as confused as Ghirahim and Ganondorf were. The Twili ran his fingers across the beast's shoulders, and cooed at the pleasant texture of its fur.

"I _love_ it" Zant whispered. "Master, teach me how to take care of it!"

* * *

><p><strong>A quick<strong> **note about some of the headcanons I have that showed up in this part:**

**Because of the location of the Goddess Sword, the fact that it was the Goddess Sword and not the Master Sword, that the Hylia statue was still in Skyloft, and that the Imprisoned could be summoned, it is my belief that Fi and Ghirahim were taken from their era PRIOR to the events of Skyward Sword.**

**Because of the way Midna accuses Cia of being the one who made her an imp, and that Zant is already called the Usurper King, it is my belief that they and Agitha were taken from their era AFTER the events of Twilight Princess.**

**And lastly, my friends and I are derps and decided one evening that Zant loves horses, and the thought has never left me. There are no real details about how that came about, sorry.**


End file.
